Page 23 of Age of Shade

One night.He made it perfectly clear that this wasn’t going to be repeated, and I agreed. We didn’t discuss the particulars, but even someone like me knows the rules here: you have sex, you sleep, and then you go home. While therewasn’tsex, and therewasa weirdly intense, emotional moment in there as well, I’m pretty sure the last part is still applicable. Undoubtedly, he doesn’t want me to hang around his super expensive hotel suite or read into things.

A quick peek at the clock on my phone confirms that I slept way longer than my designated four hours, and I need to be at work soon. I couldn’t stay, even if I wanted to. Which I don’t. Casual is exactly what I needed. We had fun, but I can now resume my regularly scheduled life with one mind-blowing sexual experience and three thousand extra dollars under my belt.

Whichdoesn’tmake me a prostitute. I was paid to have dinner with him,which I did, and then I left. Everything after that was all me.

I’m careful to close the bathroom door extra quietly so it doesn’t wake Ash.Wow. The room is floor-to-ceiling marble, and the tile is warm beneath my bare feet. On the counter, I find a whole array of complimentary toiletries and eagerly help myself to one of the biodegradable bamboo toothbrushes, plus some lotion that smells like rich people.

Staring at my reflection in the mirror above the sink, I can’t help twisting a little, examining my naked body from every angle. Apart from a few bruises on my breasts, which I’m positive are from Ash’s mouth, there’s no sign of what we spentlast night doing. Ifeeldifferent, though—sexy, grown up, and confident, all except the question gnawing at me since I woke up.

Why didn’t he want to have sex with me? Was it because—Nope. I shake myself mentally. Not going there.

It’s tempting to stay a while longer, if only to take advantage of the enormous glass-enclosed shower or test out all the different kinds of bubble bath resting along the edge of the tub. Real life is calling, though, and I know I need to get back up town to change before work. Maybe, if I’m an extra good person for the next however many years, I can haunt this bathroom when I die. I’d deal with all the naked rich people if it meant I could spend my afterlife using that bathtub.

Giving myself one last once-over in the floor-length mirror on the back of the door, I push my hair behind my ears and open the door just wide enough to peek out cautiously.

Asher is still sleeping, spread out on his stomach beneath the white bedding, the top half of his surprisingly muscular back visible. One arm is stretched out to where I’d been laying beside him only moments ago, like he was unconsciously reaching for me.

Catching my bottom lip between my teeth, I pause. The urge to call in to work for the first time ever and stay with him is so strong, it’s like a physical ache.

There’s no point in drawing this out.

Even with the extra three grand in my bank account, I can’t stomach passing up a whole eight-hour shift. Especially when the man I want to crawl back into bed and cuddle with left my clothes by the door.

It’s better like this, to go without the awkwardness. What would he even say if I woke him up to say goodbye?

Thanks for everything?

I had fun eating your pussy, have a nice life?

My soul shrivels at the thought. Nope. Better to slip out of here with my dignity intact and my last memory of Asher being his low, rough voice in my ear, waking me up and ordering me to come on his fingers sometime in the early hours of the morning. Will the letters he leaves for Allison hurt for a while? Probably. I signed up for this, though. I knew what I was getting myself into, and now it’s time to face reality.

Shoving aside the impulse to get back into bed, I cross to the pile of my things.

I’m just pulling my thong back over my hips when I hear a soft rustle of bedding behind me, and my heart leaps into my throat. I spin around to find Asher sitting up, looking at me through bleary eyes, his hair flat on one side and sticking up on the other.

Something inside me twists painfully. I’m so into him. I can’t lie to myself.

“Come back to bed.” His voice is still rough with sleep, and he has to fumble blindly on the bedside table for a few seconds to find his glasses.

I want to. More than anything I want to. If this is hard now… I shake my head. It seems to take a lot more effort to smile than it usually does. “I have to go. Work in a few hours.”

Be cool, Adina.

Asher falls silent as I turn my attention to my dress, wincing at the state of it. My one saving grace is that, by some miracle, Doctor Roth’s office will be closed for the first Saturday since I started working there, probably because the man himself wanted to go downtown and have unattached sex. He got what he wanted—kind of—and now I thankfully won’t have to wait until tonight to change my clothes. None of my coworkers have ever come in for a shift wearing a wrinkled designer cocktail dress that shows half their boobs, and I don’t want to be the first.

“Wait a moment.”

I don’t dare look up as Asher moves around the other side of the bed. My whole face is burning, and I hold the dress to my front, covering myself the best I can. Last night, he saw every inch of my body, and touched most of it. But it’s different in the light of day, when the amount of time we have left together can be measured in minutes.

A second later, Asher is at my side, holding out a pair of sweatpants and white T-shirt.

“Thank you.” I take the clothes and pull them on quickly as he moves past me to sit at the edge of the bed, silently watching as I dress. The weight of his gaze is impossible to ignore, but I do my best. The T-shirt falls to mid-thigh, and the sweatpants are so big I have to roll them up four times, but it’s better than the walk-of-shame ensemble.

What is he thinking right now? Is he relieved I’m not a desperate virgin, trying to draw this out? I bet that’s why he didn’t sleep with me. Too much baggage. Fair enough.

He’s quiet as I gather my things, and I’m wishing Ididn’twant him to say something. Why can’t I be one of those women who is capable of having a fun, sexy hookup and then going on her way with a smile? Ruby does it all the time, and jokes later about their penis size or the weird stuff in their bathroom cabinet. That’s how it’s supposed to be. I’m twenty-one years old; I should be out there looking for a good time, not throwing myself at the one man in this city I have feelings for.

Every second that passes without him saying anything hurts more.

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